


Control

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 24: Dildos. Dean’s wounded, but that's never stopped the boys from bedroom games.  Brief mention of John Winchester in the beginning of fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

The gash was on the inside of Dean’s thigh, and Sam stitched it up with his tiny, even stitches while John looked on. The three of them had gone over a graveyard fence in a hurry, and it had been Dean’s bad luck to choose the one place where the fence was broken to hop over. He wasn’t looking at either of them – an avoidable injury, and he was embarrassed as hell about it. Dad’s been gruff about making sure the wound is cleaned out, his version of a reprimand that doesn’t need to be given out loud, and Sam’s frown speaks volumes of it’s own. They need to separate, get the vehicles in different towns, and as soon as this is over John will be on his way, now that it’s dark.

Later, they’re lying together in bed, and Sam sighs.

“Fine, just get the lecture over with, Sam. I don’t fucking want to deal with your pissy little self right now.”

Sam gives his brother a mild look. “You don’t even know what I was thinking.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that this is gonna put a damper on our sex lives, is what I was thinking.”

“Oh.” The syllable holds embarrassment, maybe a note of apology – Dean’s never good at apologies. He’s silent for a while, then looks over at Sam, who’s kind of looking blank, rather than bitchy. “Maybe a way around that.”

“Wha?”

Dean starts to get up, then flinches as the stitches pull. “Dude. Grab my duffel over to where I can get into it.” Sam shrugs, clears off the nightstand to set it there. “And strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes. They’ll be in the way.” Dean’s not sure how long he can hold the straight face for, but then Sam laughs and pulls back the blankets on the bed.

“Dean, those painkillers – you’re not going to be very functional,” he warns.

“Functional and braindead are two very different animals, Sammy.”

Sam strips and slides into the bed, making sure he flashes his ass at Dean – there’s still a handprint or two there from yesterday. He settles in, and turns to find Dean watching him with a proprietary grin.

“Dude, I just got comfortable. If you tell me to get out and put the cuffs and collar on? Not happening?”

Dean grins. He’d never say it aloud, but he likes when Sam gives him attitude, especially in bed like this.

“C’mere. My arms aren’t broken.”

Sam carefully slides into Dean’s embrace, surprised that the older man is able to support his weight. He suspects that Dean has shorted on the painkillers, but so long as he sleeps later, Sam won’t argue. His brother pulls him into a long kiss that has Sam hard in a heartbeat, and it isn’t much later that Dean’s hand wraps around Sam’s long dick, sliding easy and quick. Sam tries to hold off from begging, not wanting to push the issue, and bites his bottom lip to keep from speaking.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.”

Sam whimpers, and feels the slight pressure of his brother’s hand guiding him to turn over, and he doesn’t know what to do, wants to stay in Dean’s arms, but wants to know what comes next. It’s a position he’s been in all too frequently lately, at least in bed. The pressure stops, because Dean’s not going to try and force anything. A minute later, Dean’s hands are encouraging him to slide up the bed, and roll towards him. It’s not going to break the contact Sam’s craving – Dean injured always freaks him out, throws him off balance – and Sam moves, slow and sure, until he’s draped over Dean’s chest – he grabs the pillow, pulls it under his own shoulders, to take some of his weight off Dean. His big brother’s gentle hand coasts over his ass, and Sam shivers with pleasure.

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah,” he manages, his voice husky with lust. “You?”

“I’m all good – just don’t move quick, ok?”

“Yeah.”

Sam enjoys the feeling of Dean's strong hands coast along his back, and he smiles again. He reminds himself to relax, to not hold back his reactions like he does sometimes – Dean’s never gonna say if it’s too much for him, and it’s the only thing Sam can do. He feels fingers trace along the soft skin of his bottom, sneak into the crease there, and circle around, and Sam’s thoughts sort of end there, with the longing moan. Then Dean’s slick fingers are inside, stretching, exploring, caressing. Sam’s on the ragged edge, but it’s not enough, and they both know it. Sam takes a breath to tell Dean to just stick with the hand job, when he feels the pressure of something else asking for an invitation inside. He releases the breath, long and slow, feeling Dean’s left hand smooth his back in silent thanks, while the right works the warm object inside. Sam suddenly remembers the dildo from Dean’s kit – the red one, the one with, oh my. His body accepts the toy, and it’s driving him absolutely insane.

Dean moves the toy with quiet precision, in and out, long and slow, adding little twists to maximize the effects of the ridges, of the little nubs near the tip that should be hitting Sam’s prostate. Sam’s quivering, and he continues massaging his back with his left hand to calm him. He knows it would be better for Sam if they could kiss, but Sam’s just too damn big and gangly for Dean to be able to reach at the same time, and neither of them will be happy if he tries and tears those stitches. A sheen of sweat appears over Sam’s sexy length, and his dick is hard and hot, rubbing against the soft skin of Dean’s side, just above his hip. Dean can feel the precome there, and knows it won’t be long. He increases the power of the thrusts, eliciting some wordless moans, and then speeds up.

Sam’s rocking gently in place, just the merest hint of friction on his cock, mesmerized by the sensations in his ass. He’s not going to be able to hold on much longer, and Dean seems to sense it. The toy is pounding in and out, turning and plunging, exquisite sensations filling Sam. Dean’s free hand tightens in Sam’s hair just as he plunges the toy as deep as it can go into the boy – he’d been saving the last inch of the toy, just for this – and Sam is quivering, coming, moaning. Dean feels his own cock dripping a little, and is glad that the muscle relaxants prevented the spasms that would have been painful. He’d kind of like it if Sam might want to come up and kiss and cuddle, but he’ll never say it.

Sam lays there for long minutes after Dean’s set the toy aside, loving the feeling of the older man’s long hands massaging his back. As the massage quiets his heartbeat, he lifts himself up, drops a kiss onto the waiting lips. He’s the one who gets up, fetches a pair of clean washcloths, wetting them with warm water – normally Dean takes care of that, because Sam’s usually too limp.

Dean’s eyes are a little glazed over as Sam cleans both of them up. Tired, probably, or the drugs caught up with him. Sam slides into bed with some care, and wraps a long arm around Dean. Dean will probably have a bitch fit in the morning, Sam cuddling with him like this, but Sam could care less. His big brother knows just how to take care of him, and needs a little taking care of himself right now, and Sam’s just the man to do it.


End file.
